SHE HAD THOUGHT she liked kissing. Had thought that it was her favorite part about physical intimacy. That it was sweet and undemanding, that it allowed her to feel those warm, fuzzy feelings that always vanished once her clothes came off and expectations began to grow.
But this kiss was something else entirely.
It wasn’t sweet. And it was more than demanding.
His lips were hard and hot on hers, his tongue insistent as he devoured her mouth, sliding it against hers. And as for warm, fuzzy feelings...
This was too sharp to be anything like fuzzy. It was something ferocious, something that went deep and hard and on forever. Something that reached parts of her she hadn’t been aware of.
His hands were large and rough from all that outdoor labor, just like she’d known they would be. He didn’t hold her gently. Not at all. His blunt fingertips bit into that space between her shoulder blades as he held her tightly against his body. And they didn’t stay still. No. Not at all. One slid down the center of her spine, tracing a line on the way down to cup her ass, and then he lifted her, easily, quickly, positioning her on his lap, her legs straddling his thighs. She could feel him between them, hard and insistent and already pushing her outside the boundaries of kissing.
She would have said that she didn’t like that. That she didn’t like to be rushed through this part, and taken to the portion of events where she failed.
But, she couldn’t say anything. Because he was still devouring her mouth, and there was something about the way he held her, something about the way he moved his tongue against hers, about the way his hips bucked beneath her, that made her forget there might be something she wasn’t doing right.
Her fingers ached, and it took her a moment to realize it was because they were wrapped around the collar of his T-shirt. So tight that in spite of the fact there was fabric between her fingertips and her palms, she could feel her nails digging into her skin. It was a miracle she hadn’t worked little claw marks through the material.
Dimly, she wondered if she cared if she did.
He shifted his other hand, the rough pads of his fingers an erotic sensation on the delicate skin of her neck as he moved his palm to cup her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. He broke the kiss, his lips hot against her neck, her cheek, and then against her ear.
“What did he do?” he whispered in her ear, the words rough and harsh.
“What?”
“Your ex. How did it normally go?”
She didn’t want to think about him. Not at all. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. I’m not setting you up for failure.”
“I... I...”
“How about this?” His voice grew huskier. “Why don’t you tell me something he never did?”
Her brain froze. That felt too... To have to admit to him all the things she’d never done. To have to sit there and try to think of sexual things she had no experience of was humiliating. And not only that, it would take too long. And there were probably about a thousand things she wouldn’t think of because she was too inexperienced to know them.
How could a woman who had been married all that time be inexperienced? It was... Well, she came back to the word humiliating.
So she simply froze above him, her entire body going stiff. He drew his head back and looked at her, those dark eyes boring into hers.
“Never mind,” he said, his tone gentling. “I’ll handle it.”
“You’ll...”
He slid his hand forward, tracing the line of her jaw to her chin, and then pressing his thumb against her lower lip. The movement was slow, deliberate, and his eyes never left hers. “You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
“How... How am I supposed to...”
“Honey,” he said firmly. “I don’t need you to problem-solve this. You’re not my nanny. I don’t need you to take care of me. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
She chose to forget for a moment that it was because he had been with a lot of other women. Because he had been with any number of people he would be able to compare her to. Because really... That just meant that he’d had a lot of sex, and if this sex was disappointing she wouldn’t feel that bad. She was not, after all, the be-all and end-all for him, like she had been for Darren.
Somehow, that put less pressure on her. Made her feel more settled.
His large hands were so firm and sure, it made her feel like she could relax into them. That demand that she had felt in his kiss earlier wasn’t a demand being placed on her. It was a demand he placed on himself, and all she had to do was surrender to it.
He kissed her again, firm and certain, slow and thorough, taking the time to trace her mouth with his tongue before he delved back in deep. She shivered, warmth pooling low in her midsection as he explored her mouth.
He didn’t move his hands. He kept them right where they were, kept his exploration confined to her lips alone.
There was something incredibly erotic about that. It made her whole body feel more alive somehow. Made her feel restless, aching for a touch he wasn’t giving. Her breasts felt heavy, achy. As did that soft, slick place between her legs. He wasn’t pressed against her now. The only place they made contact was where her legs draped over his thighs, and where he held her fast with his hand, where his mouth met hers. She wanted more.
She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she had wanted more. He kissed her like that until she was trembling, until that ache between her legs had become a hollow, intense pain. Until she was ready to beg.
And then, just when she felt like she couldn’t stand it any longer, he moved his hand down the side of her neck, to her breast, cupping her gently, his thumb sliding over one tightened nipple.
The sensation was like a jolt of electricity arrowed down to that place where she was wet and needy for him. She bucked her hips forward, the movement involuntary, bringing her into contact with his arousal again. He chuckled, but didn’t make any movements of his own. He just continued to stroke her breast, lazily almost, as if he had all the time in the world.
He broke the kiss, those dark eyes knowing as he stared into hers, as he continued to toy with her. Looking at him while he touched her like that was... She shivered, a strange aftershock seeming to echo inside of her core.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered, pausing to find her nipple again and pinch it lightly between his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes widened, a shocked gasp on her lips. And he swallowed it, claiming her mouth with his own again. Then, he lifted them both up out of the chair, not breaking the kiss as he walked her back into his bedroom.
She was not a petite woman. And no man had ever...picked her up like she was a delicate, fragile thing. But Jackson made her feel like she might be. His strong arms held her easily, his big, hard body a firm and steady resting place.
It was exhilarating. Incredible.
It was the one room of the cabin that she hadn’t been in over the course of the past couple of weeks. It was sparse and masculine, and exactly like she had imagined his room would be. Plain, wooden furniture was paired with a red-and-black flannel bedspread, which she soon found herself deposited onto. He didn’t join her on the bed. Instead he took a step backward, his hands going to the hem of his T-shirt.
He dragged it up over his head and her insides hollowed out.
He was the most... The most incredible, beautiful man she had ever seen. His muscles were honed from years of hard work, a bit of dark hair covering his chest and trailing down over his well-defined abs. His jeans were low, showing off that band of muscle that formed an arrow, pointing down toward that most masculine part of him that remained hidden from her sight.
Then his hands went to his belt buckle, and her throat went dry. “I figured I ought to get naked first,” he said.
“Of course you think that,” she said, her voice trembling. “You know there’s not a woman alive who could turn you away once you do that.”
She hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud, but she had. He chuckled, continuing to work his belt through the loops, and snapping his jeans and drawing the zipper down slowly, shedding the denim and his underwear in one fluid movement, and leaving her staring, open-mouthed.
She shifted restlessly, that hot, hollow ache between her legs suddenly taking on a very clear and obvious purpose. But if she was going to fill it with a man that size she was going to need to be seriously wet. She squeezed her legs together. She might already be wet enough. Just from looking. Just from kissing.
Although, calling what had just happened between them just kissing seemed a little bit disingenuous. He looked at her with purpose, closing the distance between them and bending over, kissing her until she couldn’t think straight. Kissing her until she couldn’t breathe. Then he stretched them both out on the bed, her body draped half over his, still fully clothed. Her hand was planted against his bare chest, and she could feel his heart, raging hard against her palm. He was naked, and she was fully clothed.
It should feel—in some ways—like he was the vulnerable one. But she had no idea how a man like him could ever be vulnerable. He was so large that he made her feel tiny and delicate, which was unheard of at her height. But he was so broad and muscular and tall. Perfect.
Touching his bare skin made her shake. Feeling all that leashed strength beneath her hands... She had never experienced anything like it.
Those big hands moved down to her hips, pushed up beneath the hem of her top, the heat of his touch burning through the thin lace of her bra as he cupped both breasts and teased her nipples. Then, with very little fanfare, he wrenched her top up overhead, sending it flying across the small bedroom. He grinned as he turned his focus to her leggings, dragging them down her legs and leaving her before him in nothing but her black lace bra and underwear. She gave thanks for the fact that she kept it simple when it came to unmentionables, and it just so happened she had white and she had black, and that meant most of the time they matched.
Though she had a feeling he wouldn’t care either way.
He was looking at her like he wanted to eat her whole, and she didn’t think—no, she knew—that her husband had never looked at her that way. Not even once. And he was supposed to have loved her. Jackson didn’t love her. But he seemed captivated by her body. That did something to her. Ramped up the already intense sensitivity in her body.
He made a sound that was halfway between a groan and a growl, moving toward her and kissing the curve of her breast, just above her lacy bra cup. Then he reached behind her back and unclasped it, sending it sailing the same way as her T-shirt.
“Shit,” he breathed, the curse like a prayer as he stared at her. He touched her again, like he had done through her shirt, cupping her, teasing her. The effect of those calloused fingers, with nothing to blunt the sensation was... She arched and squirmed beneath him, that restless ache between her thighs growing wider, more insistent.
Then those wicked lips quirked into a grin as he pushed his other hand down beneath the waistband of her panties, sliding his finger through the center of her slick folds, his touch like lightning against her sensitized flesh.
She gasped in shock, trying to squeeze her knees together as he drew lazy circles around her clit, his fingers moving easily because of all the wetness that he’d created there. She was almost embarrassed. For him to realize how much she wanted this. To be revealed in this way. That thought sent a zip of panic through her. She couldn’t hide. Not like this. He knew exactly how desperate she was. How needy. Knew that he had created this effect in her body.
As if he could read her mind he removed his hand from her breast and drew it down to his cock, wrapping his fingers around his hardened length and slowly sliding his hand from base to tip and back down again, bringing her focus to his arousal. To how turned on he was. How much he wanted her.
Maybe she was wet and needy for him, but he was hard for her.
She licked her lips, desire drowning out that momentary panic as she watched him take himself in his hand, as she took in the full sight of him, thick and heavy and beautiful.
She could honestly say she had never thought of that part of a man’s anatomy as beautiful before. His was. He was.
He continued to tease her with his fingers, sliding one finger deep inside of her and continuing to move his thumb over her clit as he worked it in and out of her body.
She let her head fall back, arching her hips against his hand in time with his rhythm. She was lost in it, and only dimly aware when he pulled her panties down her legs exposing her to him completely.
He leaned in, kissing her hipbone, the touch of his mouth on her skin a shock.
Then he shifted, moving downward, parting her legs, his focus right there on her center.
She squirmed, trying to close her legs like she had done earlier, but he held them open, his gaze never leaving her body. Then, he met her eyes, a question in them.
He wasn’t going to ask, though she knew exactly what he was wondering.
If anyone had ever done this for her. What he was about to do.
Part of her wanted to stop him. For the same reasons she had been horrified by her own signs of arousal earlier. Because what he was clearly getting ready to do was so intimate, so raw, that it terrified her. Just the idea of it.
And no, no one had ever done it to her.
But neither of them said anything, and he kissed her inner thigh, the scrape of his beard on that delicate skin sending an erotic shiver through her body.
She could tell him to stop. But as he kissed and licked a path to the most intimate part of her, she could only wait. Wait and anticipate.
She didn’t know what kind of magic he had worked on her body, only that it was very real. And that she was under his spell.
He pressed his hand against her intimate flesh, spreading her open and sliding his thumb over that sensitized bundle of nerves there a few more times, bringing her back to her body. Bringing her back to that state of need that superseded everything else. Then he leaned forward, replacing his thumb with his tongue, tracing shapes, drawing the most intense pleasure from her that she’d ever experienced.
It was so sharp it almost hurt, that slick glide of his tongue over her clit. She was bucking her hips in time with his mouth, unable to worry about embarrassment, unable to care what it said about her. What it betrayed about her desire for him.
She could only feel. His every lick, his every kiss, the welcome invasion when he pressed two fingers inside of her and worked them in and out of her body in time with the rhythm of his tongue.
He lifted his head, just for a moment, his eyes burning into hers. “Good girl,” he said, before lowering his head and sucking her clit into his mouth as he spread his fingers inside of her wide. She hadn’t felt it building. Not really. It had been an ache, something sharp and fiery. She hadn’t realized the explosion was coming.
It was hard and intense, lightning behind her eyes as her internal muscles clenched tightly around him, a wave pulsing through her body. It went on and on. She didn’t know if it would ever end, and she didn’t know if she could survive it. The pleasure felt like it might break her apart from the inside out. Deep inside, where she had never been touched before. And he didn’t stop, his fingers drawing out deeper, harder responses while she shivered and cried out, her cheeks wet with tears. Then he moved away from her, leaning over and opening up a drawer by the bedside, taking out a small plastic packet and tearing it open quickly. He rolled the condom over his length and returned to her.
She was boneless. Spent, her mind reeling with what had just happened. Her body still trembling with the aftereffects. She couldn’t handle more. She couldn’t. But she couldn’t find the voice to say it, and much like right before he had placed his mouth on her, she wanted to push herself. Dare herself.
She didn’t want to allow herself to be the one that stopped what was happening.
He had said that she could trust him. So she was going to. He positioned himself between her thighs, that thick, blunt head teasing her entrance.
She was so wet, more than ready for him. She looked up at him, at that beautiful face, so acutely aware of the fact that it was Jackson slipping inside of her now. He felt different. Every inch of him. From that hard, muscular chest pressed to her breasts, to those big, rough workmen’s hands. To that thick, glorious cock that made her feel so full it took her breath away.
He flexed his hips forward, hard, and she gasped as his pelvis made contact with her clit again. She had never felt it like this when Darren was inside of her. Had never felt stimulation there before. It was something about the way Jackson moved, or the way he had so thoroughly aroused her before. The way he had already brought her to completion. She was sensitive. So sensitive. She could barely stand any more stimulation.
He kept moving, and each thrust deep inside of her found some glorious place deep in there, sparking need against those nerves.
She felt like she would die of it. Another orgasm built from somewhere deeper inside her this time.
And she recognized it. What that ache was. That need that verged on pain.
She didn’t fight it. She chased after it. Suddenly she was desperate. For more. For everything. She wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to take him deeper as he whispered filthy things in her ear. Working her hips in time with his as he claimed her, over and over again. As he seemed to lose his control, his movements becoming fractured and uneven, harder.
Harder.
She realized she was saying that out loud. Making demands of her own.
And he obliged.
He slammed his mouth against hers, his tongue going deep as he froze above her, his hardness pulsing inside of her as his muscles shook, trembled. It was his own release, and the realization that he was in the grips of an orgasm as powerful as the one she’d had earlier pushed her over the edge again.
Her internal muscles gripped him tight, pulled him deeper, drew out their pleasure longer. Impossibly so. She clung to him. Held on to him until her breathing slowed. Until her heart rate returned to normal.
And she realized she had made a huge mistake.
Sleeping with a man she was living with. A man she couldn’t get away from. A man whose baby she was taking care of. A man who paid her wages.
She also didn’t care. She couldn’t.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered.
He kissed her forehead, pulling her against his chest. “Now you do.”